“Don’t come where?”
“To the wedding.”
I stared at her.
Lauren started speaking quickly.
“You’ll feel out of place, and I won’t be able to relax. I’ll spend the entire day worrying.”
“Worrying about what?”
She rubbed her palms together.
“That something might happen.”
“What could happen?”
She looked away.
I forced myself to ask.
“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”
Lauren said nothing.
That silence was all the answer I needed.
I put the coffee pot down.
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“Mom, don’t make this harder.”
“Harder for whom?”
“It’s one day.”
“It’s your wedding.”
“I know.”
“I’m your mother.”
Her voice broke slightly, but she still would not look at me.
I wanted to yell.
Instead, I asked, “Does Ethan know you’re asking me not to come?”
She hesitated.
That was another answer.
I nodded.
“All right.”
Lauren finally looked up.
“Really?”
“I won’t come.”
Relief crossed her face.
That hurt worst of all.
After she left, I poured the unfinished coffee down the sink. Her cup still had lipstick on the rim.
I stood there longer than I’d like to admit, staring at it and wondering how my daughter had become someone who could erase me from the biggest day of her life.
Then I opened the drawer where I kept my mother’s pearl locket.
On the morning of the wedding, I stayed home until nearly noon.
My mother had worn it at her wedding.
I had worn it at mine.
Lauren used to ask about it when she was little.
“Can I wear it when I get married?”
“Absolutely.”
So I put it in a small velvet box and drove to the church.
I had no intention of staying.
Outside, people in expensive clothes moved toward the entrance.
I found an usher.
“Could you give this to the bride?”
He checked the label.
“You’re Lauren’s mother?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“You aren’t coming inside?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Before he could ask why, the organ began playing.
The church doors opened.
There were white roses everywhere.
I should have left.
Instead, I slipped inside.
Every pew was full.
I sat in the back, partly hidden behind a tall arrangement.
Then Lauren appeared.
She was beautiful.
For one second, I forgot everything.
I saw the little girl who used to wear pillowcases as wedding veils.
I remembered fastening plastic beads around her neck while she practiced walking down our hallway with a bouquet made from grocery-store receipts. Back then, she’d made me promise I would sit right in front.
Lauren walked down the aisle without looking back.
At the altar stood Ethan.
That was the first time I ever saw him.
He was tall, dark-haired, and visibly nervous.
When Lauren reached him, his face softened.
He took her hands.
Then his eyes moved past her.
He saw me.
His smile vanished.
His whole face went pale.
